


The Care And Treatment Of An Injured Guide

by Lyn



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyn/pseuds/Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Struggling to recover from his leg injury, Blair also has to deal with a sentinel in nursemaid mode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Care And Treatment Of An Injured Guide

Detective Jim Ellison had never been one for celebrating Christmas. Even as a child, he had vague memories of being overwhelmed and often sick for days from the sight of flashing lights on the Christmas tree, the sound of the joyful carollers and ringing bells of the charity Santas at the mall, and the smell of the vast quantities of food the family cook, Sally, prepared for the many dinners and soirees his father hosted over the season. There was truth in the old saying that too much of a good thing was bad for you, Jim well knew, as often the meals served up were too rich for his sensitized tastebuds. His mother was always worried that it was somehow her fault and his father, eternally disappointed in him, as he so often had been.

So, until recently, Jim had done his best to avoid Christmas. Until Blair Sandburg had come barrelling into Jim’s life just over a year ago, that is. Blair Sandburg was not one to allow any celebration go uncelebrated and he’d made sure that he found ways around Jim’s hypersensitivities so that he enjoyed the festivities just as much as Blair did. As Jim’s guide – and Jim knew Brackett had been right on the money with that description – he knew exactly when Jim should dial his senses down, amp them up or a little of both. Jim had come to discover the beauty in Christmas and Halloween and the other myriad, sometimes obscure celebrations Blair insisted they participate in. And since they’d become lovers not all that long ago, Blair’s expertise with Jim’s senses had added more pleasure, if that was possible, to their lovemaking too.

This year though, Christmas was going to have to be a little quieter. During the chase for Dawson Quinn, the killer who had kidnapped Simon when his friends had broken him out of a prison transport van, Blair had been shot in the leg. He’d also suffered a pretty severe concussion and smoke inhalation, as well as hypothermia. Frankly, Jim was surprised that Sandburg hadn’t been in worse shape by the time they’d choppered him out of the forest to the hospital. Jim was still teasing Blair over making a date with the local FBI agent on the Dawson Quinn case, despite knowing it was probably the pain meds that had made it totally slip Blair’s mind that he and Jim were in a relationship now.

Jim had to grin as headed up the corridor to his front door. If anyone had ever told him, he’d be playing happy homemaker with a curly-headed, short but incredibly good-looking anthropologist, he would have told them they were nuts, yet here he was, about to walk in his front door and give the love of his life a “Hey, honey, I’m home” kiss.

The smile slipped from his face when he remembered the reason why Blair hadn’t been tagging along with him on his last case. The bullet wound Blair had suffered hadn’t healed as well as the doctor thought it should have by now. It was still inflamed and had taken several weeks to get an infection under control. Blair was still limping heavily and at times was pushed to use his crutches when his leg ached badly. Despite Blair’s protests to the contrary, both the doctor and Jim suspected he hadn’t been taking it as easily as he’d been advised to.

In fact, just that morning, Jim had put in a call to the university to ask if anyone had seen Blair there in the last few days. The secretary had informed him that Blair had in fact been there the last three days in a row – and though he was limping quite badly, poor dear, she had noticed he wasn’t using crutches at all. Fuming, Jim had headed straight into Simon Banks’ office and requested a few days off. Simon, unsurprisingly, had agreed wholeheartedly to Jim’s request. Jim knew that Simon had been impressed with how Blair had handled himself during the Quinn chase and take-down.

“Sit on the kid if you have to,” Simon said. “He’s like the damn Energizer Bunny. Doesn’t know when to quit.”

Sandburg was in for one hell of a shock tonight, Jim thought, opening the door to the loft and fixing that smile back on his face.

The first thing he noticed was the aroma of Blair’s special vegetarian spaghetti sauce wafting from the kitchen. The second was Blair’s crutches leaning against the wall next to the front door.

“Gotcha, Sandburg,” he whispered. He grabbed the crutches and slipped them under his armpits, swinging his way toward the kitchen. “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he announced.

“Jim! You’re early!” Blair turned from the stove and froze.

Jim jiggled purposefully on the crutches. “Forget something on your way to the kitchen?” he asked.

“I was only up for like five seconds stirring the sauce,” Blair replied. He hopped toward Jim and reluctantly took the crutches Jim held out.

“And where did the ingredients for the sauce come from?” Jim asked. “When I checked the fridge this morning, it was bare.”

“The corner market,” Blair said then hurried on when Jim frowned. “I drove… and took the crutches. We gotta eat!”

“You could have called. I could have stopped on the way home and got something.”

“Takeout again most likely,” Blair grumbled.

Jim sighed and leaned in to kiss Blair. Leaning back, he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news. What do you want to hear first?”

“Definitely the good news,” Blair said.

“Simon gave me a couple days off.”

“That’s great.” Blair frowned. “Why?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Because he’s a great guy. Actually, I told him you needed a little help here and he thought it was a good idea til your leg heals properly.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Blair protested. “I’m fine. You have enough to do without chasing around for me.”

“I wanted to. Now… do you want to hear the bad news.”

“Not really.” Blair swung around and hopped over to the couch, sitting down.

“The bad news is I’ll be watching you like a hawk, Sandburg. You put any weight on that leg and I’ll know and I’ll be making sure you do those exercises the physical therapist told you to do.”

“I have been doing them… mostly.”

“Anyway,” Jim decided to let Blair off the hook, “how about you sit here and tell me what I need to do to finish off dinner.”

Blair opened his mouth and Jim held up a hand to silence what he knew was no doubt going to be a protest of “I can do it.” I think I can manage to make a spaghetti sauce, Sandburg.”

 

Jim had to admit he hadn’t even thought about work for the past two days. He and Blair had hung out together, catching up on each other’s news. Blair had caught him in a moment of weakness and Jim had agreed to a few non-intrusive tests but after the third one he was bored silly and begged off claiming a headache. It wasn’t entirely a lie. If they’d continued any longer, he was certain he’d end up with one.

Blair’s leg did seem to be getting stronger, proving he had at least been doing the therapy exercises, and the morning’s session had veered off inexplicably into a sensual, lazy love-making, a bonus for both of them.

Jim had suggested they go out for lunch to a new restaurant that had opened locally and Blair had agreed with alacrity.

“I need to wash my hair though before we go,” he said. “It’s like gross, man, after that workout.” He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously. “All right for you,” he added cheerfully as he went in search of fresh towels, “not much for you to wash.”

“Ha-ha!” Jim snarked back, “you’re just jealous because my hair dries in 2 minutes.” Blair flashed him a rude hand signal and headed toward the bathroom. “Not so fast, Sandburg. I’ll give you a hand getting in and out of the tub.”

“I can—“

Jim cut him off before he could finish the sentence. “I’ll give you a hand.”

Blair sighed overdramatically then nodded. “Why don’t you join me?”

Jim pretended to think about it then smiled. “I could do that. I need to shower before—“ The phone rang before he could finish.

“Ellison.”

“Jim, it’s Simon.”

“Simon, hi.”

“Sorry to interrupt your days off, Jim. How’s Blair?”

“Blair’s fine. Leg seems to be improving pretty quickly now.”

“Good to hear. Look, I’m sorry to do this but—“

“What’s happened?”

“It’s what not happening. There’s been a snag with Quinn’s trial. The DA has some loose ends he wants tied in a neat bow to ensure Quinn gets put away for life.”

“We’ve tied it up as neatly as it can be, Simon.”

“I know and you know but I’ve been ordered to humor the DA. I really am sorry. Listen, if Sandburg’s leg is better, he could come in with you.”

“No, sir, that’s fine. I’d rather him wait until he sees the doctor again at the end of the week. I don’t want to risk setting his recovery back.” Jim ignored Blair dancing around in front of him and pointed sternly at the crutches. Blair stuck his tongue out and instead plopped down on the couch, looking mutinous. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He hung up the phone and turned to Blair. “Sorry, but I promise I won’t be long.”

“Let me go with you then. Come on, Jim,” Blair wheedled, “I’m getting cabin fever! I promise I’ll just sit at your desk, read some reports, maybe work on my diss.”

“The case is sewn up tight, Chief,” Jim said, “just the DA being a nervous Nelly. I’ll be back in an hour tops.”

“So, why can’t I go with you?”

“Because I know damn well if I need to go check anything out or re-interview anyone, you’ll push to come with me, just like you are now!”

Blair slumped back in his seat and Jim immediately felt remorseful for his words. “Chief—“

Blair held up a hand and shook his head. “No, you’re right. I would. I’m your partner. Besides,” he held up a lock of his hair and shook it, “gross, remember? Don’t want the DA giving you a hard time because your partner stinks.”

“Sandburg…”

“Jim, it’s fine,” Blair said, waving a hand toward the door. “Go, already. The sooner, you go, the sooner you’ll be back. I’ll book a table at the restaurant. 7 okay?”

“7’s great, Chief. Thanks.” Jim walked over and sat beside Blair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close for a kiss. “As soon as I get back, I’ll help you wash your hair. Deal?” When Blair didn’t respond, Jim nudged him. “Chief?”

“Yeah, yeah, man, it’s a deal.”

 

The one hour tops thing was a total wash. Jim had been in with DA Williams for five hours, going over his statement and then Simon’s too before Williams finally decided he was happy. It wasn’t until he was headed out of Major Crime that Jim checked his watch and realized the time. “Damn it,” he cursed.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dialed the apartment. When there was no pick up on the call, he tried Blair’s cell, only to get the same response. Knowing he was going to cop hell when he got home, hoping Blair had worked with him for long enough now to realize that sometimes there just wasn’t an opportunity to make a call saying you’d be late, Jim sucked it up and hurried to his car.

 

Jim nearly took the front door off its hinges in his haste to get into the apartment then skidded to a halt. Blair sat on the couch, bent over his laptop, several textbooks piled up next to him. He looked up at the commotion of Jim’s entrance.

“Hey, you’re home,” he said, smiling brightly. “I phoned Simon a while back and he said you were still butting heads with the DA and didn’t know how long you might be, so I didn’t bother booking a table.” He shrugged. “Maybe we could just get take-out, try the restaurant next week.”

Jim stared at him for a moment, nonplussed, then nodded. “Okay. I called you from the station as I was leaving but you didn’t pick up.”

“Oh…” Blair’s brow furrowed then smoothed out. “I must have left my phone upstairs. Didn’t hear it.” He touched his ears and grinned. “Not a sentinel, you know. Besides it would have taken me forever to get up the stairs. So, how did it go with the DA?”

Jim headed into the kitchen for a beer. “Quinn wants a deal,” he said as he opened the fridge and pulled two bottles out.

“You’re kidding me!” Blair exclaimed. “In exchange for what?”

Jim shrugged, opened the beers and took them out to the living room. He handed one to Blair then sat down on the loveseat. “Damned if I know. He’s not talking… yet.”

“The DA’s not going along with it, is he?” Blair asked. He took a sip of his beer then tipped the bottle at Jim. “Thanks.”

“Nah.” Jim took a long swallow of his own drink appreciatively. “He knows Quinn’s lawyer is grasping at straws. Anything to get the asshole a lesser sentence.”

Blair pushed a strand of hair behind his ear and sat forward again, reading his laptop screen. “Well, that’s okay then. Hope he never gets out.”

Jim leaned forward and sniffed the air. “You washed your hair.”

Blair looked up, and Jim could see him gearing up for an obfuscation. “Don’t even try, Sandburg.” He tapped his nose. “Sentinel, remember.”

Sandburg had the grace to look chagrined. “Okay, yes. I had a shower and washed my hair. But I thought we were going out and my hair was gross, man! Anyway, nothing happened.” He stood and walked over to stand in front of Jim. “ See, all good.”

Jim snorted. “What if it had?” he asked. “What if you’d slipped in the shower or tripped getting out of the tub? Damn it, Blair! I told you I’d help you when I got home!”

“Which could have been tomorrow!” Blair countered. “I’m over this! I’m a grown man! I’m perfectly capable of taking a shower by myself!”

“If you’re such a grown-up, why have you been heading to the university most days… and leaving your crutches at home?” Jim countered.

Blair looked absolutely shocked and Jim wished the ground would open and swallow him up. “You’ve been checking up on me?”

Jim held his hands up defensively. “We… the doc and I were worried about how slow your recovery’s been,” he said. Then his anger started a slow boil. “Seems like I was right on the money.”

“I don’t believe it!” Blair took a step back, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you went behind my back! You could have just asked me, Jim.”

“And gotten another Sandburg famous obfuscation.” Jim stood and glared at Blair. “Look, Blair, I can understand if the Quinn case got you pretty freaked out. I mean, you got shot, banged up, jumped off a cliff. I can understand if you’d decided you’d taken on more than you can handle working with me.”

Blair’s eyes widened.” Is that what you think I’m doing? Trying to delay my recovery so I don’t have to come back?” He shook his head. “Man, you are so wrong.” He turned and strode over to the door, his limp more obvious with his hasty movements. He pulled his jacket and gloves off the coat hook and opened the door. “I’m going out for a while.”

“Where are you going?” Jim asked.

Blair turned and looked at him. “Like I said, out.”

Jim took a couple of steps toward him. “Great! We’ll go out. I know you said you’re sick of being closed up in here.” He rushed on, knowing he’d said the wrong thing, realizing there was no way Blair, who’d jumped off that cliff, who’d followed him doggedly in his pursuit of Quinn, who followed him resolutely on every single case they tackled, who’d sought him out in the beginning, would have allowed his fear to stop him from being at Jim’s side. He felt like a total asshole. “Okay?” he added.

Blair was already shaking his head as he picked up his keys from the basket. “I need some time out, Jim,” he said. “I’ll be back later.” He opened the door and was gone before Jim had time to protest.

Only the shutting of the door broke Jim’s inaction. Grabbing up Blair’s crutches, he hurried out after Blair who was just walking into the elevator. “Sandburg!” he called. He was relieved to see Blair’s hand halt the closing doors and trotted up the corridor. Blair looked at him but his expression was guarded and closed.

“Jim—“

Jim fought against grabbing Blair and dragging him back to the apartment. “Blair, I’m sorry,” he said.

Blair smiled but the sadness in his eyes spoke far more. “I know. I just need to go. Okay?”

Jim nodded then thrust the crutches through the slowly closing elevator doors. “At least take these.”

Blair nodded and accepted them, propping them against the wall of the car. “Thanks.”

 

Jim stood motionless for a moment, feeling adrift, uncertain what to do. Should he go after Blair? Apologize for his actions? Finally he decided not to. Although he had been checking up on Blair, he’d done it for the right reasons. Out of care, concern and love for his partner. Blair needed some time to blow off steam. He’d been cooped up in the apartment for a while now, no doubt as frustrated as Jim was, more so, in fact, that his leg wasn’t healing faster, enabling him to get back to working with Jim. Best to let him go for now, and when he came back, they’d talk and work out the best way to get Blair back where he wanted to be.

He walked back into the apartment and headed into the kitchen, planning to eat, but he was no longer hungry. Maybe Blair would come back soon and they could still go out to eat.

He made coffee and sat on the couch, staring into space. The silence was deafening but he didn’t bother to turn on the TV, knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything until Blair came home.

The ringing of the phone woke him, and he had no idea how long he’d been asleep. Even as he picked up the receiver and glanced blearily at his watch, he realized he couldn’t even remember how long ago Blair had left.

“Ellison.”

“Jim, it’s Simon. Is Blair there?”

“No.” Jim sighed. “We had an argument. He went out, needed to blow off some steam.” He looked again at his watch. 1 o’clock? “What’s up, Simon? Look, I need to go look for Blair. It must have been around 4 when he left here. I thought he’d be back by now.”

“I caught a report coming through of a Volvo found abandoned in a side street on the outskirts of Cascade. When I checked, it’s Sandburg’s.”

Jim felt lead settle in his gut. “I’m on my way.”

“No, wait,” Simon replied. “Stay there. According to the uniforms who responded, it doesn’t look like a carjacking. Apparently, he ran out of gas. I just wanted to check it was Sandburg driving it. He may be headed back to the apartment now.”

“I’ll phone him…” Jim groaned. “He left in such a hurry, he didn’t take his phone or his wallet. Simon, it’s snowing out there…”

“I know. Do what I said, Jim, stay there in case he comes back. I’ll go check out where the car was found, drive around, see if I can spot him.”

It was the last thing Jim wanted to do but he agreed with Simon’s logic. “Okay. Call me if you find anything.”

“Will do. Don’t worry, Jim, I’m sure he’ll come through that door before you know it, spouting excuses.”

“I hope you’re right, Simon.”

As much as he knew Simon’s call was the right one, Jim had to fight against striding out the door and heading to wherever Blair’s car had been found. He walked out onto the balcony instead, hunching his shoulders against the chill of the air and the dampness of the light snow coating his sweater. Almost without thinking, he cast out his sight and hearing into the gathering darkness as though by doing so, he could draw Blair back to him.

The phone ringing didn’t even register for a moment, as engrossed as he was in his sensory search. Then he came back to earth and hurried over to answer before the caller hung up. “Ellison.”

“Jim, it’s Simon. I found him. He’s fine. Cold, tired, and a little wet but fine.”

Jim sagged with relief. “Put him on the phone, will you? I’m not gonna tear him a new one… yet,” he assured Simon. “Just want to hear him for myself.”

There was a brief pause then Simon replied. “Look, he doesn’t want to talk right now. I don’t know exactly what went on with you two but he said he needs some space for a little while. He wanted me to take him to a motel—“

“A motel!” Jim exploded. “Put him on the phone—“

“But I refused,” Simon cut in. “I suggested he come spend the night at my place. He can have something to eat, get warmed up, and catch some sleep. By the morning, he’ll probably realize it’s all a storm in a teacup and head home. The kid helped me out with Quinn, Jim. Let me return the favor. Just give him a little space for now.”

Jim was fired up to argue, or to head straight down to Simon’s and tell Blair to stop being a little idiot and come home with him then Blair’s words from earlier pricked his conscience. Blair was right. He was a grown man, not a child and Jim was his lover and partner, not his father or his big brother. He didn’t like it but he steeled his resolve to accept and hope that Simon’s words were right. “Okay,” he said finally. “Tell him… tell him I’m sorry and he was right.”

“Tell him yourself tomorrow,” Simon replied brusquely and hung up before Jim could say more.

 

Jim didn’t bother going upstairs to bed. He doubted he could have slept with all the recriminations going around in his head, although he still felt somewhat resentful that Blair had just walked out without allowing him to explain that his concerns were only because of his love for Blair. Not to mention heading off without thinking about taking his phone or wallet. It wasn’t the first time that had happened, although Jim had to admit, Blair usually did so when he was in an all fired hurry to join Jim or investigate some new information on sentinels. Both done with the intention of helping Jim, which just brought him back full circle to the fact that he didn’t appreciate his partner nearly enough.

He slumped down onto the couch and simply stared into space, resigning himself to a long, sleepless night… and was surprised to awaken at dawn, with a headache and stiff neck from sleeping sitting upright.

Coffee and some toast lessened the headache somewhat and a hot shower relieved his knotted muscles. Not prepared to sit around waiting for Blair to call, Jim grabbed his jacket and keys and headed for Simon’s house.  
He was about to hammer on the front door for a third time when he heard footsteps coming down the hall then the door was flung open. Simon stared out at him with bleary eyes.

“Ellison? What the hell are you doing here at this hour, waking up me and my neighbors?”

“I came to talk to Blair,” Jim said. “You told me to wait until the morning—“

“My morning!” Simon growled. “This is not morning on my day off, Detective.”

Belatedly Jim glanced down at his watch. 6.30am. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t realize you were having a day off.”

Simon sighed and grabbed Jim by the arm, dragging him into the house. “Keep your voice down, all right? The kid’s still asleep. He was exhausted last night—“

“Hi, Jim,” Blair said from the top of the stairs.

Jim whirled around at the sound of his voice. Blair looked exhausted still, his hair a snarled mess, his face pale with dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing an oversized T-shirt and a pair of grey sweats that he held up with one hand. Jim fell in love with him all over again. Blair started down the stairs then stumbled over an overlong pants leg and Jim dived forward, grabbing him before he could take a header the rest of the way down. He wrapped his arms around Blair, squeezing him tight for a moment then stepped down one riser. “Sorry,” he said, “thought you were gonna fall.”

“But I didn’t, thanks to you.”

There was a subdued groan from below them. “I’m going back to bed,” Simon announced, stomping past them upstairs. “You can make coffee but keep your voices down. I need my beauty sleep.”

“Yes, you do,” Blair said.

“Sandburg!” Simon admonished. “Is that the thanks I get for giving you shelter last night?”

“Sorry, Simon,” Blair said, looking suitably chagrined. “I’m not quite awake yet. It just slipped out.”

Simon waved the apology away and kept walking.

“So,” Blair said, “coffee?”

“Sure.” Jim led the way into the kitchen.

“You had me worried sick,” Jim said as he handed Blair a mug of coffee then sat opposite him at the table.

“I know.” Blair blew on his coffee then took a careful sip. “I’m sorry. I was angry and frustrated and I just didn’t think. I just wanted to get out of the apartment for a while.”

“You had a right to be angry,” Jim replied. “I shouldn’t have snooped on you, even if I was right about what you were doing.” He held up a silencing hand when Blair opened his mouth to speak. “Hear me out, Chief, okay?” Blair nodded and Jim continued. “Being right about that doesn’t make it right for me to go checking up on you behind your back. You’re right. You’re a grown man, not a kid and you’re definitely not my little brother.” He reached across the table and took Blair’s hand in his. “You’re my partner, my lover and my best friend. Just know I did it because I was worried about you and because I love you.”

“I knew that already, Jim.” Blair smiled.” I guess I’d been cooped up in the apartment for so long, going stir crazy. Maybe I was spoiling for a fight, some excuse for me to walk out that door, if for no other reason than to get out of there, to prove to you that I was fine and could look after myself. As much as I loved us having those couple of days together, I couldn’t stop thinking about how you were only there to babysit me and I was stopping you from doing your job.”

“You got injured helping me and Simon in the first place,” Jim replied. “I wanted to be there for you.”

“It’s not often it’s you doing the reasoning and telling me to calm down and think things through,” Blair said. “You have to admit that.”

Jim grinned. “True.” He set down his coffee. “How about we go home?”

“I have a check up with the doctor later today,” Blair said.

“Great! I’ll take you then maybe we can go out for dinner later. I’d really like you to come to the mall with me too. I have to get my Christmas shopping finished and you know I don’t do well this time of year.”

“That’s my job, man.” Blair stood and hitched up the track pants with a wry grin. “I have to tell you, Jim, I have never been so happy to see Simon as I was last night, even if he did yell at me for getting his car seat wet.”

Jim laughed. “Seems like we’re both in Simon’s bad books for now.” He walked around the table and wrapped his arms around Blair, leaning in for a long, deep kiss, relieved to feel Blair’s arms tighten around his waist.

Then Blair pulled back and looked up at him. “You sure you want me to come back? I can’t promise not to get antsy if the doctor says I have to stay home for even longer.”

“I’m sure,” Jim said, “and if the doc says that, I’ll even let you come into the station and finish up all my reports and H’s and Rafe’s…”

“Deal.” Blair kissed Jim again then turned and walked away. He paused then and turned back. “While I was out there last night, trying to find a phone or a cab or even a beat cop who knew me, I thought about the reasons I wanted to stay with you, why I shouldn’t have walked out.”

“You gonna tell me?” Jim asked.

“Well, the rent’s pretty cheap,” Blair began.

Jim nodded. “There may be an increase in your future. Anything else?” He could see Blair was fighting to hold back a grin.

“I have my very own sentinel right at my beck and call.”

“I’m putting a ban on all sentinel-related tests for a month.” Jim fought back to hold back his own smile. He’d missed this bantering and he suddenly realized that until this morning, he hadn’t seen Blair truly smile in a long time. “Is that it?” he asked when Blair just kept staring at him.

“Yep.” Blair turned again then held up a finger. “Oh, right, there was one more.” He really smiled then, so widely that it lit up his face, chasing the fatigue from his eyes. “Because I love you, Jim.”

Jim crossed the room and grabbed hold of Blair’s hand. “And because I love you, Blair.” He pressed a quick kiss to Blair’s mouth and whispered, “Always.”

END


End file.
